Regeneration
by dreamer9981
Summary: Riding a golden dragon doesn't guarantee a perfect life. Can Eva recover from a devastating accident and lead High Reaches Weyr through the tumultuous early Turns of the 5th Pass?
1. Prologue: The Dream

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! After a long hiatus, I'm back with something new. For a long time I've wanted to pursue a theme that I dealt with to some extent in a short story, "Golden Mistake": the idea that riding a gold dragon doesn't mean your life will be easy or perfect. Regeneration is unrelated to that story, but it deals with that idea. I can't promise updates will be regular or even frequent, but I'll do my best. I love reviews, especially detailed critiques, so please let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: **The plot and characters are mine, but everything else belongs to Anne McCaffrey.

**Prologue: The Dream**

The dream was always the same.

Speed; motion; wind in her hair. The muscles of the runner bunching beneath her legs. The dull thud of its hooves echoing in her ears.

A tree blocked the path in the distance, growing larger with every ground-eating stride, a fallen monolith. But it was nothing; she laughed, the runner snorted, and they were flying over it, landing lightly on the ground and speeding away. The sky was a faultless blue and the air was crisp and they would go on running forever. No one would stop them.

But something wasn't right—_this _wasn't right. She looked down, and just as she remembered what it was that she should have remembered—what she could never forget—the dream changed.

She was mounted again, but this time it wasn't a runner. Carefully crafted straps buckled her tight against the gleaming golden neck, and she was with her beloved Valeth.

_Today is a good day to fly Thread, _the queen announced, eyes spinning red with bloodthirsty anticipation. _You are prepared? You have the flamethrower? _

_Primed and ready, _she replied, clapping a hand against her eager dragon's neck. All around the dragons of the Weyr ground firestone, and occasional gouts of flame lit up the late afternoon sky. The Weyrleader gave the signal for the wings to form up, and Valeth leapt into the air, taking position behind her golden dam and grand dam. As one, the Weyr's dragons leapt _between_, arriving above High Reaches Hold, waiting.

_It comes, _the Weyrleader's bronze Brierth announced, and then it was there, all around, drifting towards the ground in thin filaments, heavy clumps, and whimsy spirals, moving with the wind before being engulfed by dragon fire.

It was a heavy Fall, the heaviest that she and Valeth had faced in their short career, and they relished the chance to flame. Valeth, still not fully grown, was more agile by far than the other queens. They darted up and down, back and forth, catching Thread that escaped the upper wings.

_Watch out, _she told Valeth as a tendril of Thread headed straight down above her head. Valeth promptly jumped _between._

They returned to the fight into a fiery maelstrom. A weyrling delivering firestone saw Thread coming and went to flame it, paying no attention to the wing's careful formation. They came out of _between _just as the blue let out an enthusiastic burst of flame. She had just enough time to raise her hands in futile protest and jerk her head away as the flames grazed her side.

She and Valeth both shrieked as they felt the force of the flames, burning skin and hide. There was no time to think. Valeth jerked sideways, taking them out of the path of the flame. A few feet to the left and they would have been entirely consumed by flames, instead of just catching the far edge of the fire.

_Valeth—are you all right? _Her mind could barely form the words, numb with the shock of the burn that covered her left side and arm.

_It hurts, _the queen replied. _We must return to the Weyr. _

It did hurt, like a thousand knives were ripping across what was left of the skin on her arm, side, and hand.

And then she realized that there was another pain, a pain she had not noticed in the confusion of the burn. She looked down at her right leg and saw a silver strand sticking out of her leg, wiggling as it burrowed deeper into her thigh, pulsing a putrid mixture of grey and green. Valeth had unwittingly swerved into the path of a small strand of Thread that had escaped the attention of the other dragons.

A tiny bit of Thread that was growing steadily larger as it gorged on her leg.

_BETWEEN, NOW _was all she could get out before her vision went black.

Eva jerked awake all at once, clothes soaked with sweat, body shaking. It was the same every night, no matter how much fellis the healers prescribed to help her sleep. Every night she woke at the exact same moment.

She couldn't help it. She reached under the blanket and felt for the leg that wasn't there, the leg that was gone and could never be brought back. She could still feel the phantom limb, wiggle non-existent toes, clench invisible muscles—but there was nothing but an empty space on the bed where it should have been.

She lay back down and closed her eyes.

She could never forget.


	2. A Morning Conversation

**Author's Note: **Gotta love being home for break and actually having time to write! Thanks for everyone who took the time to read the first part, and double thanks to those who reviewed!

**A Morning Conversation**

_Eva, wake up. _Valeth's voice was insistent, gentle, persuasive. It called her out of uneasy slumber to sunlight leaking into their ground-level Weyr. The air was uncharacteristically mild for the late time of year. She could almost pretend that spring was just flowering into full bloom, but she knew it was an illusion, one last gasp of warmth before ice enclosed High Reaches for the duration of winter.

_Are you waking up?_

_Slowly_, she replied groggily. _Why am I getting up?_

_Feirth calls_, Valeth replied, and there were undercurrents of distress in her voice. _Her rider is not doing well. She wants to see you. _

"Feck," Eva said out loud, and finally she was awake. She wiggled across her bed to the large bedside table. She was able to reach into its drawers and pull out a plain skirt and shirt, all without moving off of the bed. It was easier to move quickly on such a mild morning. Normally the cold bit deep into what was left of her leg, making the pain persistent and sharp, rather than the slow, dull ache that was normal.

With clothes on and brown hair combed, there was only one step remaining. She reached for the crutches that were leaning against the side table and used them to heave herself off the bed. It took a few seconds of undignified hopping before she had her balance firmly settled between the two crutches and her one good leg. She always felt clumsy and stupid whenever she tried to move around. She kept trying to stick out the leg that was no longer there, and more often than not managed to take a hard fall.

Slowly, carefully, she crutched to Valeth's half of their weyr and peered around the corner. Valeth, who always kept a careful track of her rider's progress in case she needed help, was waiting.

_I think you've grown since yesterday, _Eva teased. She ran practiced eyes over her dragon's form, admiring the bright shine of her hide and the well-developed muscles. Somehow the young dragon was still growing, though the dragonhealers thought she must be getting close to her full size. She had already surpassed Feirth, and would soon be bigger than Ellith, who was a big queen in her own right. _You look lovely as always._ And it was true. Eva couldn't help being biased, but she truly thought Valeth was the most beautiful dragon on all of Pern. Her hide was a bright, traditionally colored gold over most of her body, but the gold darkened until it was almost bronze at the ends of her wings and tail.

A perfect dragon, even if her rider was a useless cripple. But she was careful to keep this thought away from Valeth, who would only be upset by Eva's dark mood.

_Thank you, _Valeth said with a happy croon.

Eva crutched all the way to Valeth's side and leaned up against her, letting all her weight fall on her dragon. When they were this close together, it was easy to forget everything else and think they were a normal dragon and rider.

_I am very worried about Feirth's rider, _Valeth admitted. _Feirth does not say, but she is unhappy. She does not leave their weyr except to hunt. _

_The healers will find out what's wrong, _Eva told Valeth, though her words sounded hollow even to her. _They must be close to a cure. _

_I hope so,_ Valeth said, but she was far from convinced.

Eva frowned. Valeth was such a sensitive dragon; she was far too concerned about everyone else. _You should go hunt, _she suggested, _and then go have a swim in the lake. I'll meet you out there after I'm done with Feirth's rider, and I'll see about finding someone to help me bathe and oil you. What do you think? _

_Really? _Valeth perked up immediately, and the excitement of her voice reminded Eva of just how young her dragon actually was: still not full grown, and young and energetic enough to enjoy playing in the water. Eva's injury had forced her to grow up faster than most. _Will you really come out with me? _

_I will, _Eva said, knowing she would probably regret making such a rash decision. She rarely went anywhere outside her own weyr since the accident. She hated people seeing her crippled and incapable, hated seeing the sympathy and pity in their eyes. And sometimes, if they caught a glimpse of the scarring down her side or the stump of her right leg, it was revulsion that she could see before they turned away. But a promise was a promise. She owed Valeth. _Go on. Have some fun, and I'll be with you soon._

Valeth rumbled happily and sent a burst of affection and excitement over their bond. She waited for Eva to pick up her crutches and hobble away before she moved to the edge of her ledge and pushed off, wings lazily beating the air. Eva watched as Valeth headed for the feeding pens, drinking in the sight of her powerful, confident flight before she disappeared entirely from view.

She thought about flying as she crutched back to her half of the weyr. The way the wind whistled past her eyes and whipped her cheeks pink, how everything fell away as they climbed higher and higher into the air, the way she and Valeth practically merged into one creature when they flew together.

"And it won't ever happen again, so you might as well put it out of your head," she said out loud. It was that sharding dream that had her thinking about it. It was better not to think about flying, or running, or riding, or even walking. Thinking about it made the loss that much sharper. Unbearable.

Still moving slowly, Eva exited her weyr and turned to the left. Automatically, she scanned the path to make sure it was clear. She was already going to be making a fool of herself out at the lake later; she didn't want anyone to see her if it wasn't necessary. Since the way was clear, she moved down the hall. Feirth's weyr was close, one advantage to having a ground level weyr. Normally the most junior queen wouldn't rank a ground level weyr, but that was just one of many things that had changed since Eva's injury. The cripple had to have easy access to everything.

She reached her destination and slapped her palm against the hides.

"Come in," a voice said, muffled and indistinct.

She had to balance all her weight on the crutch on her left side, along with her left leg, while she used the other crutch to move the heavy hides out of the way. Once they were pushed to the side, she hopped forward, easing her body past them.

"I'm sorry, I would have gotten up to help, but I'm feeling really wretched today." The Weyrwoman of High Reaches Weyr, Veara, rider of gold Feirth, offered Eva a chagrined smile from where she was lying on her bed. But even the small effort of smiling seemed to be too much, because a grimace followed directly after.

"It's all right," Eva assured her, keeping a tight rein on her expression. Veara looked _terrible_, worse than ever before. She seemed to be folding in on herself, every spare inch of muscle and fat disappearing, leaving only skin and brittle bones behind. It had only been a few sevendays since they had last spoken, but the changes were readily apparent. "Valeth said you wanted to speak to me?"

"Yes. Please, sit down." She indicated a chair that had been placed next to the bed, and Eva eagerly sat down. Her arms were already chafing from the uncomfortable crutches.

"What a pair we make," Veara said, echoing Eva's unspoken thought. "Not exactly the shining example of leadership the Weyr needs, am I?"

"You are too," Eva said loyally. "The healers will figure out what's been making you sick, and you'll get better. At least you _can _get better."

Veara sighed. "That's why I called you here, Eva. The fact of the matter is, I _won't _be getting better."

"What?" It took all of Eva's self-control not to broadcast her surprise to Valeth. In the back of her mind, she could feel Valeth's delight as she tore messily into a herdbeast. The last thing she wanted to do was let Valeth know what was happening. She'd leave her meal and fly straight for Feirth's weyr.

"I've just spoken to Master Erick. He said there's nothing more to try. There's something growing inside me, right here, and sooner or later it's going to kill me." She touched her chest lightly, fingers resting just next to her heart. "They're not sure how long—probably a few more months—but I will die. Soon."

Eva was shaking her head mutely, unable to respond. It couldn't be possible. Veara had been Weyrwoman for as long as Eva had been alive. She had been a young woman when the positioned passed to her, and she was in the prime of her life, with turns and turns ahead of her. It just could not be.

"Then he's wrong. You have to try something else!"

"Do you truly believe the Masterhealer could be wrong about something like this? The signs have been clear for some time, but we wanted to try every other option, just in case."

If Veara's words couldn't convince Eva, the paleness of her face and the deep smudges under her eyes could. The Weyrwoman was dying.

"Does Feirth know?" Her head automatically turned towards the other half of the weyr, where she knew the great queen would be waiting, offering her rider strength and comfort.

"She does," Veara nodded. "How could I keep something like this secret from her? She feels my pain like it's her own. To be perfectly honest, I would probably be dead within a few sevendays if it wasn't for her. She blocks pain as effectively as any medicine, but I can still think as clearly as ever. No medicine to muddle my head."

Eva bowed her head and flushed, thinking of the way she always anticipated the moment when she could apply more numbweed or swallow fellis to make reality disappear.

"Now, listen to me. I called you here for an important reason." Eva lifted her head back up. "Very few people know how sick I am. Feirth; you; the healers; Britta; Arvise. I want to keep it that way. We can't afford any distractions, not now. Things are hard enough, without all the dragons knowing they're going to lose their queen in a few months."

"You won't tell P'rin?"

Veara shook her head slowly. "No, not even P'rin. I'm sure he has his guesses, but I would rather not tell him. He has to be strong for all of us. Things will be chaotic when Britta takes over. She's inexperienced and she's nervous; at least P'rin has turns of experience to pull from. I just hope Brierth flies Ellith when she rises. Faranth forbid we have a new Weyrwoman _and _Weyrleader to deal with."

"I don't understand how you can be so…" she trailed away, not certain of the right word. Veara was discussing her own death, the prospect of her weyrmate of nearly twenty turns sleeping with another woman, and she seemed supremely unconcerned. Cold.

"I act this way because I have to," Veara said harshly. "I'm terrified about what's coming. I don't want to die! Faranth knows I tried to deny it long enough. But the fact remains that I am going to die, and soon. And this, right here, is why I wanted to talk to you."

"What is?" Eva asked, chagrined and confused all at once.

"How long has it been since your accident?"

"Three months," Eva said.

"Yes. It's been three months, and what have you done since then? You sit in your weyr all day. You hardly ever leave, not even to take care of your dragon. The healers say you haven't been doing any of your exercises. You've given all your responsibilities to Britta—who will never complain, mind you, but things have been impossible for her, being the only fully functional gold rider in the Weyr. You've become a recluse."

"What is it that you expect of me?" Eva snapped, going from confusion to red-hot anger in an instant, a reaction that was so common since the accident. Depression to rage back to depression. "_I have no leg. _I can't walk. I can't fly Thread. My hands are so scarred I can't do anything with them. I'm in excruciating pain all the time. _What do you expect me to do?_"

Veara didn't even blink. "I expect you to be a goldrider. You ride gold at High Reaches Weyr. Your Weyr needs you. Britta can't do it all on her own. If we want to survive even the first turn of Thread this Pass, you need to stop thinking about everything you _can't _do and start thinking about what you can."

Veara sighed suddenly, and the energy that had crackled around her as she spoke to Eva vanished. She sank back against the pillows, cheeks white. Eva could hear Feirth rumble warningly, and knew the queen would toss her out in a second if she thought Eva was increasing her rider's pain.

"It's partly my fault," she finally said, mustering a small smile. "Once Thread started falling, there never seemed to be enough time to attend to your training. Both Britta and I should have spent more time with you. You're unprepared for being Weyrwoman's second. Faranth knows, you only just graduated! But you're going to have to learn the skills you need to know, soon. Britta can't do it, but there's little enough else that I can do from my bed. Teaching you will be my priority."

There were so many thoughts swirling through Eva's head, _no _being at the front. She didn't want responsibility. All she had ever asked, since the accident, was to be left alone. She knew she should be grateful that she still had her life and still had Valeth, but the loss of her leg had destroyed every ounce of confidence and motivation in her. She had failed as a rider, and she had doubly failed as a queen rider. She was unworthy of her position, and the best thing for everyone was if she disappeared from Weyr life entirely.

But Veara was not giving her that chance. She was being called to fulfill her duty, as best she could. "Yes, Weyrwoman," she said dully.

A hint of compassion entered the older woman's eyes. She reached out a hand—so thin, so frail!—and placed it on Eva's. "Poor girl. Things haven't been easy for you, I know. But you knew what the life of a dragonrider can be like the moment you stepped foot in this Weyr. You had plenty of chances to turn back before you walked out onto the Hatching Sands, but you didn't. Valeth chose you, out of all those other girls, to be her rider. If you can't trust your own abilities, at least trust Valeth's judgment."

Veara sighed again, and her hand slipped away from Eva's. "I'm sorry, but I think that's going to be all for today. I need to rest. Feirth will bespeak Valeth tomorrow when I'm ready for you."

She closed her eyes, a clear dismissal, and Eva had never been gladder. She scrambled for her crutches and dragged herself out of the weyr, away from the sick woman, with her accusations and expectations and her brave, selfless courage.

She was so concerned with getting away as fast as possible that she didn't see a figure come around the corner. They met with a dull thud as the wood from her crutches knocked into flesh. The collision made Eva lose her balance entirely, and she fell to the ground, landing in a heap at a pair of unknown feet.


	3. A Revelation

**Author's Note: **Another quick chapter! Hopefully I will continue to be able to update in a timely fashion, at least until I go back to school in January. Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter. If you're taking the time to read the story, please leave me a note with any suggestions or comments. It means a lot!

**A Revelation **

Eva landed hard. She managed to twist herself midair so she landed on her left side, protecting the stump of her leg from unnecessary battering. But the jarring crash of her body on the stone floor of the Weyr still sent waves of pain through straight to her leg.

_You hurt! What happened?_ Valeth was with her in an instant, seeing through her eyes, trying to find out why she was hurting, soothing the pain.

_I'm fine, _Eva ground out, biting her lip to keep a whimper of pain from escaping—or else an inappropriate curse. _Some sharding fool just knocked me down. I'll be all right. _

Valeth replied with a mental snort, as if contesting her definition of "all right." _I am still at the lake, but I will come if you need me._

"I am so sorry," a man's voice said, and two hands appeared in Eva's line of vision. "Here, let me help you up."

She would have loved to refuse, but she also knew it was the only way for her to stand. She grudgingly placed her hands in his, and she flew up from the ground like she weighed no more than a feather. She hopped on her left leg until she had some sense of balance, and leaned up against the stone wall while the man reached down to pick up her crutches. Only when she had both crutches under her arms and could stand on her own did she look up to see who had knocked her over.

He looked vaguely familiar; she didn't think she could forget a head of such dark, wildly curling hair or such bright green eyes. He was young, but something about the lines around his eyes made Eva think he had seen more than most. Her gaze darted to his shoulders to examine his rank knots, and she suddenly realized why he looked familiar. He was the dragonhealer who had worked with Valeth in the sevendays after their injury, making sure the burns healed properly and that the scarring didn't interfere with her flying. There was something strange about his brown, if she was thinking of the right person, but she couldn't quite remember what.

"Let me apologize again," he began. "I should have been more careful. You're not hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," Eva gritted out. Anyone else and she would have been inclined to hit his legs with her crutches, but the man had done fine work with Valeth. And besides, nothing was really hurt except her pride.

"I was on my way to speak with Weyrwoman Veara," he continued cautiously.

"No!" Eva said loudly. Then, trying to regain control, "I mean, you can't. Not right now. She's very busy."

The man frowned. "We had an appointment. I need to talk with her about replenishing our supplies before winter sets in. It's rather important."

"It'll have to wait," Eva said impatiently. Veara was in no condition to speak to anyone, at the moment, and they had already established that she wanted to keep her illness a secret for as long as possible.

"Do you think you could take a minute to talk to me, then?"

Eva was shaking her head before the words could even get out of his mouth. "I'm really not the person you want to talk to. You should have your dragon bespeak Ellith and see if Britta's available. She'll be able to help."

The man looked at her for a long time. It was an uncomfortable sensation. She felt like she was being measured, and was coming up far short of whatever expectations he had. There was something in his eyes, and she had a feeling that it was pity, or disgust, or both. "I'll do that," he finally said. "Can I walk you wherever it is you're headed?"

"I'm perfectly capable of getting there myself," Eva said, keeping a tight rein on her tongue.

"I never doubted it," he replied. "I was just hoping to talk to you for a minute, that's all. I wanted to ask how Valeth's getting along. Has she had any problems since I last saw her?"

Eva started crutching, and it was painfully embarrassing to watch the tall man shorten his stride to match her halting gait, so she kept her eyes focused straight ahead. But talking about Valeth was the one thing that could make her smile. "No, she's been flying perfectly. Better than ever. You did a good job," she admitted grudgingly. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," he replied. "I figured she would have contacted Edorith if she was having any trouble, but you never know. Young dragons never like to admit when they need help."

She wondered if that particular comment had a double meaning, but she chose to ignore it. "No, they certainly don't." They reached the entrance to the bowl and stepped out into the mild sunshine. The sun warmed her skin, chilly from being in the dark interior of the Weyr. "I'm about to give her a bath now," she said, pointing out at the lake where Valeth was currently diving and sporting with some other young dragons.

"Ah," the man said with a nod. "I'll leave you to it, then. Edorith already had his bath today; the lazy boy's snoozing in the sun."

Eva followed the direction of his hand as he indicated a brown dragon sleeping near the entrance of one of the ground level weyrs. He was far enough away that she couldn't get a good look at him; she could only just make out the rich brown hide from the darker stone walls of the Weyr. "Enjoy your bath," he said in parting, and then he was walking briskly away.

As Eva crutched to the lake, she reached out to Valeth. _Are you ready to get scrubbed?_

_Yes! _The gold broke off her game of splash with a pair of dragonets from Ellith's most recent clutch and moved to the edge of the lake. She stretched out her neck to Eva and shook her head, spraying water all over her.

_Thank you very much, _she said dryly. The sun might be out, but the air was still chilly!

_I am glad you are here. It is not as nice to be bathed when you aren't here, _Valeth said.

Eva winced. It was bad enough that she was useless in every other capacity of her life, without neglecting Valeth, too. She was going to have to make more of an effort, even if it meant shocking people with her crippled body and ugly scars.

She needed help to bathe Valeth, though. It was a nearly impossible job even for someone who was entirely healthy. Luckily, the sun had drawn a number of weyrbrats out to the lake, and they were always looking for dragons to help wash. Normally something as exciting as a gold dragon would have drawn swarms of them, but Eva found a gaping, open space around her. She could feel little eyes staring at her, but none of the children approached.

They were scared: by the scars, by the crutches, by her unstable wobbling as she balanced on one arm and used the other to stroke Valeth's eye ridges.

After what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, Eva was aware of a pair of footsteps inching forward.

"Ma'am? Do you need some help washing your dragon, ma'am?" The girl addressing Eva was just on the cusp between child and young woman. She was tall, and had the pinched look of someone who had grown a great deal in a short period of time. Her hair was a bright copper color, and her nose and cheeks were covered in freckles.

"Yes, thank you," Eva said with a grateful smile. The girl certainly had nerve. She was obviously the leader of the ragtag bunch of children, because a few shouts from her had the entire group swarming over Valeth in minutes. All Eva had to do was supervise the process, making sure they didn't miss any spots and scrubbed hard.

"What happened to your leg? Mama said you were in a bad accident."

There was no wondering who "mama" was. Headwoman Arvise had single-handedly populated the lower caverns with a slew of children who had the same red hair and freckles. Eva gave the girl a considering look before she decided to answer. The child didn't mean any harm. "It's true. Thread got my leg, and that's why I have to use the crutches."

"Will it ever get better?" The girl squinted at Eva's skirt, as if she looked hard enough she could see what was underneath.

"No, it won't."

"I'm sorry." Silence fell between the two, interrupted only by the shrieks and cries of the children who had been bathing Valeth. Now that the scrubbing was done, Valeth was engaged in a battle with the children, seeing how many of them she could soak. Eva could tell she was having fun, just from the waves of pleasure passing across their bond.

"It's all right," she finally said. "But you know what? Being hurt makes it really hard for me to bathe and oil Valeth. Do you think you and the other weyrbrats would like to help me every day?" The solution to her problems came to her all of a sudden. The weyrbrats would quickly grow accustomed to her injuries—children were like that. And it would be much better than having the candidates and weyrlings take time out of their days to do it, which was the way it had been up until this point.

"Really? You'd let us do that?"

"You'd be helping me," she assured the girl. "What's your name?"

"Elisa."

"Well, Elisa, just make sure you ask Arvise if it's all right. Tell her she can talk to me if she has any questions. And you can call me Eva. I'm not _that _much older than you are!"

"All right, ma'am—I mean, Eva. I'll ask her tonight!" The girl darted back to the others and informed them of the conversation, which induced more shrieks of delight.

The weyrbrats worked diligently, oiling Valeth to a bright sheen in no time. Eva eventually had to assure them that Valeth couldn't possibly need more oil before they bounded away, off to the kitchens to dry off, warm up, and wheedle a snack out of the kitchen workers.

_I like children, _Valeth sighed happily as they left.

_They did a good job, _Eva admitted. _I think they're going to help me give you baths all the time. _

_I'm glad. _

They sat together in silence, soaking up the sunlight, but eventually Eva sighed. _There's something I need to tell you. It's Veara. She told me she's very sick, and she's not going to be getting better anytime soon. She's going to die. _

Valeth crooned, a haunting sound that was very similar to the mournful cries the dragons always gave when one of their kin died. _I thought you might say that. Feirth has been so worried. It is not fair. _

_No. There's something else. Veara told me a lot of things…about how I've been hiding away and neglecting my duty. That I haven't been acting like a goldrider since I got hurt. _

Valeth snorted. _You are always a goldrider. You are always my rider. You have been sad, and in pain, and unhappy. But that does not mean you are not a goldrider. _

Eva laughed at Valeth's vehemence. _Thank you, love, but she _was_ right. She said she's going to give me special lessons, so I'll be able to help Britta when—you know. _

_That will be good. When the time comes, you will be ready. _

Valeth's unswerving confidence and faithful support were like a balm against the unsettling news of the morning, against the fear that kept Eva imprisoned within herself.

As dragon and rider slowly made their way from the lake back to their weyr, Eva caught a glimpse of that same brown dragon. _Valeth, what's the name of Edorith's rider? The dragonhealer who helped you?_

Valeth thought for a moment. _De'rin, _she answered finally. _He is a good man. He knows much about wings. _

And that was it. De'rin, brown Edorith's rider. Wings. Suddenly she remembered what set them apart from the other riders of the weyr, why just seeing him stirred up the memory of old gossip.

It had happened just a few days after she Impressed Valeth. Still giddy from the joys of Impressing and the shock of achieving such important rank, she'd been eating in the Dining Cavern with her classmates when fierce, whispered rumors began circulating to all the tables.

A dreadful accident involving the senior weyrling class. A midair crash high above mountain cliffs. A long fall down to the rocky bottom of a crevasse. Wings torn and broken in the fall. A massive rescue mission to retrieve the fallen pair.

And then, later on, the final verdict: the young brown would never fly again. Grounded, for the rest of his life.

Valeth had been following along the path of Eva's thoughts, reliving that same moment. _Edorith's rider became a dragonhealer because always hopes to be able to fix his wings. And because he never wants anyone else to be grounded. _

Eva looked over to the brown once again. From that distance, he looked perfectly normal, like any other dragon curled up in the sun. But she had seen him shuffling on the ground to the feeding pens or to the lake, seen the torn, oddly shaped wings that tied him to the ground.

She realized now that the look in De'rin's eyes had not been pity or sympathy, but understanding. He, too, knew what it meant to be forbidden to fly.


End file.
